


down to earth then sinks the sun

by halfmoonsevenstars



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-01
Updated: 2012-11-01
Packaged: 2017-11-17 13:08:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/551899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halfmoonsevenstars/pseuds/halfmoonsevenstars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky is always glad to come home to Steve. Set pre-WWII.</p>
            </blockquote>





	down to earth then sinks the sun

_Christ, it's good to be home_ , Bucky thinks as he takes the steps up to their apartment - a third-floor walkup is the best they can afford, but they count themselves as lucky anyway - taking them two at a time, even though he's exhausted. O'Reilly had asked last week if Bucky could work extra, taking his shift so he could make it to his daughter's First Communion, and hell, how could Bucky say no to that? It's not like they can't use the extra money from working a double, and it's always nice to see a man acting like one, for a change. Bucky's own father had gone out west to look for work, back before even the Depression had really hit, and nobody had ever heard from him again. Not a word, even though until his mom died and then Bucky and his sister got split up, they'd never moved once. He and Steve have had to move a couple of times, though, trying to stay one step ahead of the landlord before they found themselves evicted and all their stuff sold or given away or thrown out. This building is old, to be sure, but this landlady is pretty understanding of hard times, and she at least does her best to keep everything in working order, bless her. And there aren't any roaches, thank god, even though the apartment is kind of hard to keep really clean, with how many people have lived there before the two of them.  
  
Mostly, what Bucky likes about coming home - because it's not about the apartment itself, even though they've managed to brighten it up here and there - is that Steve's always there, waiting for him. Not like some patient, long-suffering housewife like in the movies, nothing like that. Steve has his own life to live, his own interests and hobbies, and he certainly doesn't live just to keep Bucky fed and in clean clothes. (Though the food and clean clothes _are_ a nice perk, he has to admit.) But it just feels _right_. Corny as it sounds, even in his own head, it's one of the few truths Bucky holds dear: home is where Steve Rogers is.  
  
Not that he'd ever admit that out loud, of course. It would sound even dumber if he actually spoke the words, Bucky thinks. And maybe Steve knows that already, just like he seems to know what Bucky's thinking so often.  
  
The only thing that's been on his mind aside from that is how their radiator isn't really working all that great. Mrs. Flanagan had promised to get someone in to look at it soon, but from experience, Bucky knows it might take a while, especially since the city's going through an unexpected cold snap, and all the repairmen are working overtime. And Steve can't afford to miss more classes, he really can't. He's already had to retake that one about color theory, since he'd missed a bunch of time last winter because of the flu that gave way to pneumonia not long after. At this rate, he'll be lucky to graduate by the time they're 30. Bucky doesn't care about that, though, or the money, even though Steve always talks about dropping out every time the tuition bill comes in. Bucky manages to talk him out of it every time. Eventually, when Steve _does_ have a degree, he can maybe get some real work with the WPA, instead of those short-term contracts, and they can move somewhere warmer. Bucky loves New York, he really does, but it's just not a good place to be poor. The cost of living is so high, and he could do the same work down south somewhere and command the same wages. He knows that they could live so much better than they do now, and maybe Steve wouldn't get sick so often anymore.  
  
It's not a good sign when Bucky makes it through the front door and doesn't hear the radio on in the kitchen. Steve _loves_ that radio; it's a battered piece of shit rescued from a trash heap in Bed-Stuy, and they have to use needle-nose pliers to change stations because it'd come with the knob broken off, but it's light enough for Steve to carry between rooms at will, and it's there for company when Bucky can't be. The apartment is cold and dark and silent, with none of the good smells he's come to associate with Steve's cooking, and Bucky's heart sinks like a lead balloon. There would've been a note tacked to the door if Steve had gone out for some last-minute supplies or if he'd been at the library studying for his next exam, so that can only mean one thing.  
  
He makes his way to the bedroom and isn't surprised to see Steve propped up by a couple of pillows and wrapped in his favorite flannel blanket (Bucky had bought it for him their first Christmas out of the orphanage), his whole body heaving with the effort to breathe. He's heard Steve wheezing and gasping like that countless times before, but somehow, it never fails to scare Bucky half to fucking death, just like it did the first time he'd witnessed it. Bucky _hates_ it, hates the sadistic shithead upstairs who hadn't seen fit to give Steve the body he deserves, instead choosing to make him suffer. The nuns wouldn’t approve, but they aren’t the ones who’ve gotten Steve through scores of asthma attacks over the last dozen years, either.  
  
But as always, Bucky is careful to not let any of that creep into his voice, and he sits down on the edge of the bed next to Steve, laying a hand on his thin shoulder. "I'd hate to see what the other guy looks like," he says lightly.  
  
Steve gives him a wan smile. It's still beautiful, despite its lack of the usual high wattage. "Hey," he rasps, and Bucky knows it's all he can really manage right now.  
  
"Been here long?" Bucky asks, all the while thinking that the repairman needs to get his ass in here pronto; he can damn near see his own breath, it's so cold.  
  
Steve's answer is a one-armed shrug that Bucky knows means he'd probably barely made it up to the apartment before the asthma attack hit full force.  
  
"Hang tight, okay?"  
  
He bumps Steve's shoulder with his own, but more gently than usual, and heads into the kitchen to start boiling some water. At the very least, breathing in steam ought to help ease the tightness in Steve's chest. While Bucky's at it, he cranks the oven to as hot as it will go, then flings the door open. It's a horrible waste of gas, he knows, but utilities are included in the rent, and Mrs. Flanagan will understand. Besides, he wouldn't be surprised if she turned up tomorrow with soup for the two of them; it's amazing how far Steve's cheerful willingness to help with errands has gotten them over the years, and she's no exception. Eventually the kettle shrieks, and he grabs a raggedy old towel Steve uses to wipe up spills, along with the biggest, shallowest bowl they've got, and brings it all into the bedroom. That trip made, Bucky goes into the kitchen again to get the radio, which he immediately tunes to 'Flash Gordon'. It's really meant for kids, but they both like it anyway, and it's not like anyone's counting. More importantly, it's not a comedy, so Steve can listen and not laugh too much while he catches his breath.  
  
Eventually, after a few refills from the kettle, Steve slumps against the pillows, exhausted and pale, but no longer struggling. The expression of relief on his face cuts through Bucky like a hot knife, and all he can think is, _Jesus, if only I'd gotten here sooner._  
  
Instead, he whisks away the bowl so it won't tip over, and says, "You want something to eat? I know we've got the stuff for grilled cheese sandwiches."  
  
This time, Steve's smile could light up Broadway; he knows how much Bucky hates to cook. "I'm not real hungry, Buck, but thanks."  
  
"Let me rephrase that," Bucky says. "I'm gonna make grilled cheese sandwiches for us. Besides, the bread's a little stale, so we might as well eat it and not waste the money."  
  
Now _that_ does the trick. Steve can't stand waste any more than Bucky can. "Well, if you're not giving me a _choice,_ " Steve says, the corners of his eyes crinkling a bit.  
  
"Nope." Bucky grins.  
  
Steve sighs melodramatically and rolls his eyes. "Slave driver."  
  
"Yeah, I'm terrible," Bucky answers with a laugh. "Stay where you are. I'll bring the plates in here."  
  
"And get crumbs in the bed?"  
  
"You never get crumbs in the bed."  
  
"I was talking about _you_ , you big slob." Steve laughs a little, stretching his leg out to nudge Bucky with his foot. "Get out of here already and go burn our dinner, will you? And close up that oven before you blow us all to hell. It's getting too warm in here."  
  
"Sir, yes sir."  
  
Bucky somehow manages to salute him on his way out, despite the fact that he's juggling a bowl and a still-hot kettle and that stupid dish towel Steve won't get rid of even though it's all frayed, and enters the kitchen with the sound of Steve's laughter following him. Miraculously, Bucky does _not_ burn their dinner (he's not a bad cook, he's just not good at gauging how long something should be on the stove, that's all, really), he does _not_ blow them all to hell because he remembers to shut the oven door, and even more miraculously, Steve actually eats all of his food for once, instead of shoving the rest onto Bucky’s plate. They get through the rest of 'Flash Gordon', and then it's time for the evening news, and then there's nothing else really worth listening to, so Bucky turns off the radio and settles in next to Steve with a book. It's just some pulpy Conan the Barbarian thing that they've both passed back and forth a couple of times already, but they always get a kick out of taking turns reading it aloud to see who can do the better voices; Steve's are more accurate, but Bucky's are funnier. Tonight, though, it’s just Bucky doing the reading, while Steve does the listening. It isn't long before Steve falls asleep on Bucky’s shoulder, but that's all right.  
  
They'll just have to pick up tomorrow.


End file.
